Blood Brothers
by SunnyZim
Summary: It was just a little cut. Nothing serious. Right? After a routine hunt goes wrong, Sam discovers that sometimes it's the little things in life that get you down. Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I have been overwhelmed by the response I have received for my last two stories about our boys - your reviews make my day and have kept the inspiration flowing! This is the fic that resulted from that, and it is a small gift to all you wonderful people who I am sure, like me, sometimes pine for the simpler times, before hell and the apocalypse, when Sam n' Dean were just Sam n' Dean;)

**Disclaimer: **I am not Eric Kripke OR Sera Gamble in disguise, believe it or not!

**Blood Brothers**

**Chapter One**

It should have been a routine hunt; get in, get out. Just a simple vengeful spirit haunting an abandoned factory, decapitating the rare, unwary visitor. Of course, now that the factory was going to be torn down in order to make way for a newer, shinier building, visitors weren't so rare (though still distressingly unwary), but still. It should have been easy. Ha. When were things ever easy where the Winchesters were concerned? Somebody had blundered, as the old poem said, and it turned out that whilst there was indeed a rather vengeful spirit in the old building, there was also a particularly nasty poltergeist who had decided that the rusty old machinery made for perfect missiles.

This was the timbre of Sam's thoughts as he flew across the room yet again and landed with a sickening _crunch _in the opposite corner. Dean was not faring much better, currently lying in a crumpled heap a few metres away, seemingly unconscious, with a trail of blood sluggishly leaking down the side of his face. The way things were going, Sam knew that they were going to have to leave with the hunt unfinished. He hated doing that, but frankly they had not come prepared for a poltergeist and neither of them was in fit shape to battle it right now. The spirit alone had proved violent enough. And that was _before _Dean had been knocked out and Sam had been thrown into the wall. No. They had to get out of here, _now. _Before the poltergeist latched on to one of the horribly sharp-looking pieces of machinery and sent it their way.

Just as Sam thought that, he noticed the screws that were holding a nearby guillotine to the floor start to turn. One by one. Ignoring his protesting muscles, he crawled across the floor to where Dean was lying unconscious and, hooking his considerably non-lightweight brother under the arms, he started to drag him across the dusty floor towards the exit. Fortunately the old door had long since rusted away, otherwise Sam was sure the poltergeist would have blocked their escape somehow.

Sam heard, more than saw, the last screw come loose and drop with a menacing tinkle to the floor. Mustering his last few shreds of strength, he took a deep breath and hauled Dean through the opening, muttering apologies under his breath as Dean moaned in response to his manhandling. Shoving Dean out ahead of him, Sam threw himself out, hearing a resounding _crash _as the guillotine hit the door frame behind them and vaguely aware of a burning pain in his right calf. It was quickly dulled by adrenaline however, as Sam once again hooked his brother by the armpits and dragged him towards the waiting Impala.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Back in the motel room, Sam carefully settled his brother on one of the beds, before leaving a message on Bobby's phone to let him know about the poltergeist and ask him if he knew of a hunter in the area who could take care of it. That done, he turned to the task of triage, Dean first. His own injuries were negligible by comparison. Pulling up a chair beside Dean's bed, he noticed that his brother was starting to regain consciousness, eyelids fluttering.

Systematically working his way downwards, he started by examining Dean's head, which was now encrusted with dried blood. The cut appeared to be fairly superficial, but Sam knew that head injuries could be deceptive. Checking Dean's pupils, he noticed that the one on the left was more dilated than the other, and sighed. A concussion meant that he would have to keep a close eye on his brother over the next few hours. What initially appeared to be nothing more than a concussion could potentially turn into compression of the brain if there was also bleeding within the skull or swelling. This was why their dad had drilled it into them to never leave a head injury patient alone for the first few hours, but rather observe them carefully for any signs of confusion or slipping into a comatose state.

Feeling exhaustion already making his eyes burn, he steeled himself for a sleepless night. Sighing again deeply, he continued his examination. A couple of Dean's ribs appeared to be cracked, but fortunately none seemed to be broken and there were no signs of internal bleeding. His arms and legs were intact with a few faint bruises, but otherwise fine. The main concern, therefore, was his head injury, and only time would tell how serious that was.

Getting up from his spot by his brother's bed, Sam retrieved the First Aid kit from where he had dumped it by the door and rummaged around in to find some antiseptic and bandages.

Dean groaned as Sam started strapping his ribs and flinched away from him.

"St'p. Hurts." He mumbled, still clearly not altogether with it.

Sam gentled his hands as much as he could, but carried on with the necessary task. "I know it hurts Dean, but I've got to do this. You'll thank me later."

Dean mumbled something else that Sam couldn't catch and Sam tried to work faster, so that he put his brother in as little discomfort as possible.

Once he was finished, he pulled the covers up over Dean and turned to the unpleasant task of trying to stay awake so that he could observe any potentially ominous changes in his brother. It was going to be a long night…

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

By dawn, Sam was struggling to keep himself awake, but knew that the worst was over. Dean's pupils were back to normal and his pulse and breathing were also indicative of natural sleep. Feeling that it was finally safe to cease his vigilance, Sam collapsed in an undignified heap on his bed and was asleep within minutes.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

The next time Sam woke up it was dark again, and he realized that he must have slept the whole day. Glancing over at Dean he saw that his brother was still asleep, but had changed position at some point and wasn't quite as pale as he had been. Sam sat up and became aware of a nagging pain in his right calf. Pulling up his jeans, he turned his leg so he could examine the back, and saw a long cut marring the flesh there. It was not deep enough to require stitches; however it was looking rather angry and inflamed. Sam thought back to the night before and remembered experiencing a sudden burning pain in his leg as he had dived out the door of the factory with Dean. Presumably he had not managed to get his legs clear in time and had received a (fortunately) glancing wound from the flying guillotine. Sam decided to take a shower first and then tend to it. The hot water would no doubt do it good anyway.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Feeling refreshed after his shower, Sam cleaned up his cut and put some antibiotic cream on it, and then decided that as he had slept all day, he might as well do some research for their next hunt. Soon caught up in his favourite pastime, Sam didn't notice the hours ticking by. Occasionally, he would check on his brother, who was still sleeping, but Dean's pulse and breathing remained normal so Sam wasn't overly concerned. Dean hadn't been sleeping well lately (because Sam hadn't been sleeping well lately), and Sam figured that he had earned this rest. So Dean carried on sleeping, and Sam carried on researching.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

_It was raining. Sam was standing outside in the rain, but for some reason he wasn't getting wet. In fact he was quite hot. Looking at the raindrops, he saw that they were steaming…and falling upside down, making him dizzy. No wonder he felt so ill… _

Sam woke up to the sound of running water. Glancing over at Dean's bed, he saw that it was empty and realized firstly that his brother was in the shower and that it was that sound which had penetrated his dreams, secondly that he had fallen asleep at his laptop and drooled all over his hand and thirdly that he wasn't feeling very well. He wasn't sure if that could be attributed to sleeping in front of his laptop all night, not eating for a day and a half, or whether he was actually coming down with something.

He didn't have much time to ponder on it however, as Dean chose that moment to come out of the shower, humming Metallica as he towelled off his hair. He stopped when he saw that Sam was awake and grinned.

"Hey Francis. Nice to see you up and about. Thought for sure it'd be Christmas before you woke up."

Sam frowned. "Dude. You're one to speak. You've been _out _since that poltergeist threw you into the wall in the factory. I had to drag your sorry ass back here, and FYI you need to lay off the pies."

Dean patted his stomach and smirked. "Aw, Sammy, you're just jealous that I can eat whatever I want and still look like this. Anyway, are you ready to blow this joint? I've had enough of laying about and I want to hit the road. Be ready in ten?"

Sam nodded, glad that Dean at least was feeling perky. Clearly all that sleep had done him good. Getting up carefully, he moved to pack his things. Dean seemed to notice that he was moving more slowly than usual, because he frowned in concern.

"Hey Sammy, are you OK? If you want dude, we can stay here another day. I don't mind. Really. Unless you're just moving like an old woman for kicks."

Sam wasn't sure whether to bitchface at the last remark or smile at Dean's concern. He could tell that in actual fact, now that he was feeling rested and a bit better (bar the cracked ribs of course), Dean was itching to get on the road again, but was touched that Dean would brave cabin fever for him. However, despite the fact that he was feeling a bit off-top-dead-centre, he thought that maybe getting outside into the fresh air for a bit would do him good. Maybe that was all he needed.

So deciding to compromise and give his brother a bitchy smile, he replied with "Nah, I'm fine. Nothing that some fresh air won't help. And I would watch who you call 'old woman' – you're not going to be going anywhere fast with those ribs."

Dean rubbed his chest gingerly and grimaced. "Yeah, maybe you're right. Well, I'd still beat you in a race even on my worst days, so no worries huh?"

Sam just raised his eyebrows and ignored the remark. Dean was fast, sure, but he had nothing on Sam's long legs, and he knew it.

Sam didn't mention his cut, because hey, it was just a cut right? And Winchesters don't whine about little cuts. He'd had far worse.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Ten minutes later, they were on the road. Dean was driving, having insisted that he was perfectly recovered from his head injury thank-you very much and no way was he letting Sam drive his baby, and Sam was slouched on the passenger seat, head back, eyes closed, window open. Despite the cool breeze blowing on him, he felt uncomfortably warm and wondered once again if maybe he was coming down with something. Flu maybe. Yeah, maybe that was it. Well, they probably had a long drive ahead of them, so he'd just rest a little now. Yeah, sleep sounded good…

**To be continued….**

**A\N: **Your feedback keeps me happy and inspired!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Wow, what a response! Thank-you all so much for your lovely reviews, alerts and favourites - they totally made my day! And as a result, here is the next chapter, even earlier than I originally intended to post it!:-) Let me just say right here that I am not a doctor, and whilst I _did _research this fic pretty thoroughly, it is very possible that some inaccuracies still slipped in. So forgive me for those and enjoy the ride!

**Disclaimer: **Last time I checked I didn't own Sam and Dean:-(

**Blood Brothers**

**Chapter Two**

By the time the Impala pulled into the parking lot of another motel, Sam's clothes were damp with sweat and he was shivering. He was _definitely_ coming down with something. Dean looked over at him, an expression of concern on his face.

"Sam, you don't look so good. Why don't you wait here and I'll go and get us a room. OK?"

Sam nodded mutely and pressed his aching head against the now closed window, savouring the coolness of the glass. He closed his eyes against the pain and just listened to the sounds around him.

Dean wasn't gone long. Sam could hear the door of the Impala creak open and slam shut on the driver's side and feel the engine start up again as Dean drove them to their room. He didn't open his eyes however. It was better this way. He heard Dean open the trunk and carry their bags into their room (even though his ribs must have been killing him), and then he felt his brother gently but firmly take hold of his arms and help him out of the car and into their room, his voice keeping up a running commentary all the way.

"Easy, tiger. I've got you. Just a few more steps and then you can sleep, OK?

Sam nodded.

"OK then. Here we are. Do you want to go to the bathroom first or straight to bed?"

"Bed." Sam mumbled.

"OK, bed it is then." Dean helped him on to the bed, pulled his shoes off, and then helped him under the covers.

Sam knew that all this labour could not be going down well with Dean's cracked ribs, and attempted to communicate this to his brother.

"Sorr' D'n. You sh'd be resting yoursel'." His words came out a bit garbled but he figured Dean would understand.

"All part of the job description, Sammy. Don't worry about me, OK? Anyway, you can make it up to me by doing laundry for a month when you're better."

"'K." The way he was feeling right now, Sam would agree to anything that contained the phrase 'when you're better'. The dull ache in his head had increased to a heavy pounding, as if a little dwarf was sitting in his brain with a hammer and chisel trying to turn it into Mt Rushmore. He felt a cool hand brush against his forehead, and a moment later a thermometer was stuck under his tongue.

"Hold that there Sammy, OK."

Sam acquiesced in silence and after a minute Dean removed the thermometer to take the reading. A couple of seconds later, he swore.

"Dude, your temperature's pretty high. It's not in the danger range yet but I'm going to keep an eye on it, OK? In the meantime, take these aspirin. There's a glass of water beside the bed – think you can manage?"

Sam nodded.

"Ok, then. While you do that, I'm going to head down to reception and see if I can find out where the nearest 24 hour clinic is. Just as a precaution, you know."

Sam nodded again, not really caring at this point in time. He heard Dean leave and reached out his hand blindly for the bedside table, feeling around until he found the glass. Bringing it to his lips, he gulped down the cool water with a couple of aspirin and collapsed back on to his pillow again, feeling drained by the small effort. Then closing his eyes, he fell into a restless sleep.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Dean hurried back from the reception area, having obtained the information he had gone for. Unfortunately the nearest 24 hour clinic was a good half hour away. Truth be told he was more worried about Sam than he let on. This fever had come on very suddenly, and whilst he knew that sometimes flu and other bugs could do that, this didn't seem like your typical flu. He couldn't put his finger on what exactly about it seemed off; he just felt instinctively that something wasn't right. He mentally kicked himself for being out of it for so long after the hunt (even though he knew that wasn't really his fault), and consequently not able to check up on Sam's injuries the way Sam had done for him. But he resolved that he would do that now, and see if perhaps there was something he had missed…

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

A few minutes of careful examination later and Dean found himself staring down at the cut on Sam's leg, which was not only still hot to the touch but was now surrounded by a strange purple rash.

"Oh, that is _so_ not good."

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Sam had not been too happy about being dragged out of bed and back to the Impala, but after seeing that rash on his leg, Dean was not taking any risks. He was pretty sure now that the fever was caused by an infection and was worried about the length of time that had passed since Sam had received the cut. He had no idea if Sam had even been able to clean the cut properly, although there had been some remnants of antibiotic cream smeared across it. Either way, the sooner they got to the 24 hour clinic the better.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Dean sat in a chair across from the examination bed where his brother was lying. The doctor on duty, a very pleasant man, was busy taking Sam's blood pressure and drilling Dean with short, clipped questions.

"So, when did you say the fever started?"

Dean looked up at the doctor. "Um, this morning sometime I think? He wasn't feeling great when he woke up."

"Hmm." The doctor frowned. And you say that you noticed the rash about an hour ago."

"Yes, that's right. I didn't even know he had the cut until today. I got mugged you see, and was pretty bashed up, so I wasn't really with it until this morning." A fact for which Dean still kicked himself.

The doctor turned back to Sam and undid the blood pressure cuff. "Well, his blood pressure is very low, and his temperature is sitting on 100 at the moment. He also seems to have an increased respiratory rate. All of this, coupled with the rash, is indicative of sepsis."

Dean felt a cold, hard lump start to form in the pit of his gut. "Sepsis? As in blood poisoning? But…how did he get it so quickly?"

"Well, an untreated cut can become infected very quickly, and if the person doesn't take any antibiotics, sepsis can occur within a couple of days. You told me that he received this cut about two days ago now, right?"

Dean felt his heart sink. "Yes, that's right."

"Yes, and by the looks of things whatever cut him was probably very dirty, maybe rusty. My guess is that he either forgot about it or just didn't think it was serious enough to take good care of, and here we have the result. I'm afraid you're going to have to take your brother to the hospital as we don't have the facilities here to look after him properly. I'll go now to phone through for you, so they'll know to expect you."

Dean nodded, feeling numb. How could a small cut result in the need for hospitalization?

The doctor was moving towards the door, so Dean quickly stood up to stop him. "Um, I was just wondering…what's the prognosis?"

The doctor turned back in the doorway. "Well, the fact that it's already turned into sepsis is not good. However, it is very treatable with antibiotics as long as he gets them quickly enough. I suggest you get to the hospital. Do you know how to get there?"

Dean shook his head. He hadn't seen the need to enquire about the whereabouts of the hospital, thinking that this was something that could probably be dealt with simply at the clinic.

The doctor smiled sympathetically. "I know this is a bit of a shock, but it _is _treatable. I'll ask the receptionist to write up the directions for you."

Dean nodded and turned back to the bed where Sam was still lying, shivering and moaning softly.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's get you to the hospital, OK."

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

The doctor on duty at the hospital was an older man with a harried, tired expression on his face. He assessed Sam quickly and thoroughly and confirmed the diagnosis of sepsis, admitting him immediately. Within half an hour, Sam was hooked up to all kinds of monitors, as well as an IV of fluids to restore his blood pressure, and antibiotics to fight the infection.

The nurses and doctors gone at last, Dean sat in a chair beside Sam's bed, silently heaving a sigh of relief as he realized that everything would be OK.

Until the monitors started going crazy and Sam started gasping for air.

**To be continued...**

**A/N: **I would love to hear what you think of the chapter and story so far! Also, what did you all think of Friday night's episode? All I can say is I am VERY happy and can't wait for next year!:-D


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **So I thought I would post this as it's already written...There's only one more chapter after this, but I can't say when it will be posted as I still need to finish writing it and my brother and his fiancée are staying with us at the moment so writing time might be a bit thin on the ground...I hope you enjoy this chapter though;-)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural...

**Blood Brothers**

**Chapter Three**

Dean leaped to his feet and ran to Sam's side, hands moving frantically and helplessly. Sam's eyes were open and scared looking as his now blue-tinged lips tried desperately to suck in the oxygen his body craved. Dean slammed his palm down on the panic button, yelling for someone to come help them. The bleeping monitors had already alerted the hospital staff however, and people came running from all directions.

"What happened?" The first one into the room, a short plump woman, demanded unceremoniously.

"I don't know! He just started gasping for air! Do something!"

In the meantime the other staff had reached Sam's bedside and were quickly and efficiently examining him and the fluids he was linked up to.

"He's gone into anaphylactic shock! I need adrenaline and steroids. Now!"

The doctor who had ordered this covered Sam's face with an oxygen mask and started unhooking him from one of the multiple bags of fluid by his bedside. Dean watched these proceedings from a corner of the room, panic-stricken. "What's going on? Why has he gone into ana- whatever? Is he going to be OK?" His voice was harsh with fear.

The man turned impatiently from what he was doing, bag in one hand, and glared at him. "Would someone please get that man out of here?"

Nurses swarmed forward and shoved Dean out of the room despite his violent protestations, and the door slammed shut with a bang, sealing his little brother from his eyes and protection.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Dean paced up and down the corridor, glancing every few minutes at the ominously closed door which was hiding his brother from him. All around him the hospital hummed with activity and noise, but all he could think about was what was going on in that room. Was Sam OK? What was that thing that they said he was going into – some kind of shock? What did that mean? They had got the sepsis in time hadn't they, so wasn't he supposed to be getting better now, not struggling to breathe? An image of Sam, eyes wide and frightened as he gasped for air, came unbidden into his mind, and he shuddered. This was not supposed to happen. It was just a little cut, damn it; how could it have spiralled so out of control so quickly?

Dean didn't have any more time to ponder on this as the door opened at that moment and the doctor came out. Dean looked at him expectantly, willing to overlook the fact that this was the man who had had him forced out of the room if only he had some good news about Sam. The man saw him and came over, rubbing his hands on his pants.

"Well?" Dean asked, feeling impatient. "Is he going to be OK? What _was _that?"

The doctor sighed, the weight of too many life and death struggles clearly draining him. "Your brother went into anaphylactic shock. Basically, he had a severe allergic reaction to the antibiotics he had been put on for his sepsis, and his airways swelled up so he couldn't breathe. We've taken him off those antibiotics and put him on some different ones as well as treating his allergic reaction with injections of adrenaline and steroids. He is stable now and asking for you."

Dean didn't wait to hear anymore, shoving past the doctor to get to his brother. Sam still had the oxygen mask on, but the blue tinge had faded and, bar the various monitors and IVs attached to him, he looked more his normal self. He smiled faintly at Dean as he came in.

"Hey," he croaked, removing the mask briefly to speak. "So it seems I'm allergic to the antibiotics they put me on…"

"You think, Sammy?" Dean replied, sarcasm at the forefront now that he could see for himself that his brother was okay. "I thought you were just putting that on for show – nice special effects by the way – that blue was really quite convincing."

Sam laughed, then grimaced. "Ugh. Still hurts to laugh. Speaking of, how're your ribs doing?"

Dean wrinkled his brow in confusion as he tried to follow Sam's train of thought, not an easy job at the best of times. "I think that's what you'd call a non-sequitur, Sammy. Hey," at Sam's look of surprise, "I can use big words when I want to! Anyway, my ribs are fine."

Sam looked disbelieving (it was truly amazing how much that kid could say without opening his mouth), and Dean smirked. "Don't worry about me, Sammy. At least I can breathe which is more than I could say for you ten minutes ago."

This time it was a bitchface that greeted him from the bed, and man, _how _was Sam still able to bitchface so convincingly with a freakin' oxygen mask attached to his face? Wonders never ceased. Dean just laughed (and yeah, that _did _kinda hurt – maybe that was what Sam had been referring to), and settled back down into the chair beside Sam's bed, feeling suddenly drained from all the anxiety of the evening. "Well, Sammy, not that your conversation isn't truly scintillating, but if you don't mind, I think I'm going to take a little nap. Wake me up if you need anything, OK?"

Sam nodded, and Dean leant back and closed his eyes with a sigh.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Dean woke up again a couple of hours later to the doctor on duty (a different doctor this time) checking up on his brother. The oxygen mask was still in place and Sam was sleeping.

Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked up at the doctor questioningly. "Well, how's he doing?"

The doctor frowned. "Not as well as I would like to be honest. You're his brother, right?"

"Yes."

The man turned to meet Dean's eyes fully. "His blood pressure is still too low and his respiratory rate seems to indicate that he is having difficulty breathing, despite the mask."

Dean felt his heart sink. "So what does that mean?"

The doctor looked down at Sam and back up at Dean again. "It means that he's not responding to the intravenous fluids like he should and that his lungs have probably been affected by insufficient blood flow. Sepsis can cause low blood pressure and the severe drop in pressure caused by his anaphylactic shock will not have helped. Sam's cut had been infected for quite a while before you noticed it, which means that his body had been in a systemic inflammatory state for several hours at least. Even with immediate and aggressive treatment, sometimes organ damage is unavoidable. Sam's lungs have not completely given up, which is good, but the fact that he is still clearly not getting enough oxygen despite being on a mask would indicate lung dysfunction. I'm going to put him on a ventilator and give him some intravenous vasodepressors which will hopefully get his blood pressure and circulation back to normal. I'm sorry, but at the moment, it looks like Sam's sepsis is moving into the severe range."

If Dean was standing, his legs would have given way beneath him. As it was, he felt bile rise up in his throat as his brain struggled to take in the doctor's words. How could Sam's sepsis be getting worse? He'd been on antibiotics hadn't he? He'd just had a little cut, for goodness' sake – it was supposed to sting for a while and then get better, not put his brother at death's door!

The doctor smiled sympathetically, and walking around the bed, rested his hand on Dean's shoulder briefly. "It's a lot to take in, I know. But don't despair yet. He still has a fighting chance. In the meantime, you should get some rest – right now we can do nothing more than wait and see what the next few hours bring."

**To be continued…**

**A/N: **I would love to hear what you thought in a review:-)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **And here is the final installment! The response to the last chapter wasn't as good as previously so I hope you are all still on board and enjoying this story;-) Thanks so much to all of you who have reviewed and favourited and a special thanks to those of you who faithfully reviewed every chapter – your kind words were what kept me going;-) I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Still don't own 'em.

**Chapter Four**

Sam hated hospitals. He hated the smell, he hated the loss of control, and above all he hated the way people spoke about you as if you weren't there. I mean sure, his eyes might be closed, but that didn't mean he was brain dead OK? He heard every word that the doctor said to Dean. Every word. And there was nothing he could do about it because his eyes felt like they were weighted down with lead and his limbs might just as well be paralysed for all the good they were to him right now, and he felt _exhausted. _He had felt for a while like he wasn't getting enough oxygen, but had written it off as his overactive imagination, which had had plenty to feed it with the anaphylaxis scare. Now he knew that he hadn't imagined it at all. His lungs weren't working properly and this might only be the beginning. He sensed Dean's fear at the news and that only served to increase his own anxiety. He could be dying. This could be the end. And all he wanted right now was to speak to his brother, to open his eyes and say he was _sorry, it was all his own fault and could Dean ever forgive him? _But he couldn't. Because his lungs were heaving and his vocal cords were slack and he couldn't open his eyes. Come to think of it, being brain dead might be the better option.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Dean watched as hospital staff bustled around his brother, slipping new bags of fluid into the IV drip in his arm and replacing his oxygen mask with a non-invasive ventilator. If need be, they would intubate him later, but right now the non-invasive machine was better, as there was less chance of infection, and with Sam's compromised immune system, the last thing he needed was another infection to combat.

He felt helpless sitting by as the staff worked efficiently around Sam's bed. The doctor had tentatively told him that this _should _work, Sam _should _start to get better, but there were no guarantees. After all, he _should_ have started to get better a while ago, but things hadn't really gone according to plan, had they? Typical Sammy, always bucking the system. Dean smiled ruefully and a little bitterly. The doctor was right. There was nothing they could do now but sit and wait. And Dean had never really been the patient type.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Dean woke up with the prickly feeling that someone was watching him. Sitting up with a start, he hastily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around him, hunter senses on the alert. Seeing no threat in the immediate vicinity, he turned his head towards the bed, where two sleep-dazed hazel eyes were staring back at him.

"Sammy? Are you awake?"

His little brother nodded his head slightly against the pillow and reached his hand up towards the ventilator, with the obvious intent of removing it to talk. Dean rushed to stop him.

"No, Sammy, don't do that. You need to have that on because your lungs aren't working properly."

Sam's forehead wrinkled and he moved his hand back again. Dean grabbed his wrist and gently forced it down on to the sheets. "I know it's uncomfortable Sam, but you've gotta leave it there for now, OK? Just for now." Sam nodded reluctantly.

Dean squeezed his brother's hand and let it go. "I'm gonna go call a doctor to check you out OK? I promise I won't be long."

Sam nodded again, hazel eyes blinking slowly. Dean smiled at him reassuringly and left the room.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

"Well, there's been a definite improvement since I looked at him last."

Dean had fortuitously managed to find the same doctor who had seen Sam before. The man had carefully examined Sam and was tentatively hopeful. Dean pressed him for more details.

"How are his lungs though? Can he come off the ventilator yet?"

"Well, his blood pressure is normalizing nicely and his fever is down, so it looks like he is responding well to the vasodepressor drugs I gave him and to the new antibiotics. I think it would be safe to take him off the vent and put him on the mask again. We can monitor his progress from there. Obviously we don't like to keep patients on ventilators longer than we have to."

Dean nodded, relief flooding his being. Sammy was on the mend! He would soon have his little brother back, in one piece and annoying as ever. The doctor met his eyes and gave a small smile. "Like I said, your brother's a fighter. While there's life, there's always hope, and clearly your brother has something to live for."

Dean felt himself flush even as a warm feeling curled in the pit of his stomach. Because that was his job. It had always been his job. To make sure that his little brother had something to live for.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Sam watched as his brother visibly started to relax. The worst was over now and it really _was _just a matter of time before he was well enough to leave the hospital. The ventilator was gone and the mask back in place and Sam could feel the difference in his body. His lungs felt lighter; there was no longer a heavy weight on his chest, and for the first time in days he felt awake and aware of his surroundings.

Dean looked over at him and smiled tiredly. "How're you feeling Sammy?"

Sam reached up and pulled the mask away slightly so he could answer. "A bit better. I'm not going to be running any marathons any time soon, but I can breathe which is more than enough for now." The air caught in his throat a little as he said that and he coughed. Dean's eyes shone with concern, but he quickly hid it behind a smirk. "Well at this rate, I'm going to have to carry you out bridal style, dude."

Sam's lips twitched in response. He knew things were on the up and up when Dean started making jokes again.

"By the way Sam," Sam looked up as he heard the sudden seriousness in Dean's voice, "Now that you are with us again, well relatively speaking at any rate, there's something we need to talk about."

Sam frowned, unsure where this conversation was headed. Dean met his eyes and Sam saw a brief flash of anger behind the concern there.

"_Why _didn't you tell me about your cut, dude? I mean I know I was out of it for a while there but we still could've caught this a hell of a lot earlier if you had just thought to mention it." Dean's voice took on a bitter edge. "How do you expect me to look out for you when you can't even look out for yourself?"

That stung, but Sam understood that now that the crisis was past, all of Dean's pent up fear and sense of helplessness was coming to the surface like pus from a lanced abscess; his anxiety from the past few days was being released in the form of anger and frustration and Sam instinctively _got _that. That didn't stop the insidious guilt from curling in the pit of his stomach however. Because, much as it hurt to admit it, Dean was right. Even though he had had other things on his mind at the time, he _should _have said something. In their line of work distraction got you killed more often than not and his Dad would have torn a strip off of him for his failure to take care of things. As it was, Dean's rebuke, whilst still firm, was much more gentle than he deserved. That didn't stop the tears from coming to his eyes though, probably induced by exhaustion as much as anything else. Sam felt even more foolish as he tried to blink them away without Dean noticing.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

Dean _did _notice however, and felt his heart twist within him at having put them there. He knew though that he had to say these things even if he didn't like it anymore than Sam did, so he steeled himself to finish whilst trying to soften the blow as much as possible.

"This can't happen again Sammy. I-I can't-I _won't _let it. From now on, you show me every little cut and let _me _decide whether or not it's important OK?"

Dean could feel Sam's rebellion from where he sat as a stubborn look came into his little brother's eyes and he moved his hand towards his mask so he could object more verbally. Dean raised his own hand to preempt him.

"I know it sucks Sammy and believe me, I don't like it any more than you do. But humour me, OK? You're my little brother and I _need _to be able to take care of you. And I can't do that if you don't let me."

Dean saw the fight gradually fade from his brother's face as he contemplated Dean's words. After a couple of minutes, he silently nodded and Dean felt the tension he hadn't even realized he was feeling ease out of his muscles. They could do this.

~ O ~ O ~ O ~

**Two weeks later…**

Dean sat on the bed of yet another amorphous green motel room, cleaning the guns. Sam had been out of hospital for over a week and a half now and was doing better each day. The cut on his leg was almost fully healed and he was well on his way to being his usual emo self again.

The bathroom door banged open and Sam emerged, half dressed and with a serious expression on his face. Dean tensed automatically in response, big brother senses on the alert.

"What's the matter Sammy? You look like someone ran over your laptop."

Sam frowned at Dean's remark, mouth drooping in a slight pout. "Well….you know how you said I should tell you about every little cut I get?"

It was Dean's turn to frown. Surely Sam couldn't have hurt himself badly in the _bathroom_? Mind you, his klutzy little brother was capable of anything….

"Yeah – well did you?"

Sam turned mournful hazel eyes on him, forehead creased slightly, and Dean felt like a brute for ever making a joke about it. "I'm sorry Sam. What's wrong?"

Sam turned his head slightly so his jaw was facing Dean. "I think I cut myself shaving just now. Wanna see?"

Dean felt a sense of confusion and more than a little annoyance. Surely Sam hadn't taken his words _that _literally? Dean looked up at his brother feeling baffled, only to see Sam's soulful expression smoothly transform into a gleeful smirk. The giant geek had been playing him!

Dean mustered what dignity he had left and gave the only response he felt such behavior deserved. "Bite me, bitch."

And as Sam's smirk turned into a full on grin as he gave the traditional little brother response, Dean knew that things were finally back to normal. Well, Winchester normal at any rate.

The End

**A/N: **Well, that's all folks! I do have an idea for another fic rattling around in my head at the moment, so if and when it comes to fruition I hope to see you all again! In the meantime, it would mean the world to me if you would let me know what you think of this chapter/story in a review – last opportunity!


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